


we'll route our way on maps of stars

by jemmasleopold



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmasleopold/pseuds/jemmasleopold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when jemma meets allergy-restrained fitz at a new year's eve party, she is figuratively swept off her feet and into three more years of an annual gathering in a living basement. she watches the boy she soon blossoms into loving sweep someone else off their feet, and wilts at the idea of losing what little she has in the even littler town she was born and raised in. the funny thing is, he feels the same way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jemmasimmmons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmasimmmons/gifts).



**december 31st, 2015**

it's cold out on the patio, under the deck. frigid. dark. dark because jemma is outside at midnight (not quite yet, but very close), and dark because she's hiding in the shadows, cast by the moonlight streaming down through midwinter clouds, like she always is. this is the last place anybody will look for her —  _anybody_ , especially fitz. she'd miss all the excitement.

thank god. she should have thought of this years ago.

leaning back against the weathered bricks that wall in daisy's home, jemma starts to pick at pieces from the bag of chex mix she has brought out with her, and toss them into her mouth. (daisy's mom made the best chex mix.) she can hear peppy music playing deep inside, making the floorboards beneath her feet vibrate, as if the house itself is alive, with the basement as its heart, thrumming with adrenaline. then, it abruptly stops. that is a good sign. it means that the countdown is about to begin.

_“ten!”_ she hears someone shout. masculine. british. _d_ _runk._

_“nine!”_ the shouting is much louder this time, as more people join in.

_“eight!”_

jemma is going to miss the whole thing.

perfect.


	2. midnights

**december 31st, 2013**

“are there tree nuts in that?”

jemma stills, a ritz cracker piled with pesto and cream cheese held inches away from her open mouth. “i think there are pine nuts…” she replies hesitantly, crossing her eyes to inspect it.

well, as best she can, anyway. seeing double doesn't help at all, but she makes a valiant effort in trying.

“are pine nuts tree nuts?”

“i have no idea.” she lowers it and looks at the person that has interrupted her free snacking with a pointed gaze. “i don’t think pine nuts grow on pine trees, do they?”

a shrug is his response. he hardly seems fazed by her attempt at making him feel guilty, so she sticks to observing him. wide blue eyes beneath a mop of dusty curls. he wears a cotton and polyester navy jumper patterned with white silhouettes of monkeys.

“i’m not much of a tree-nut expert,” she continues.

“me neither. you’d think i would be — being an engineer and all. if i accidentally eat one, it could kill me. if there was something out there that could kill you, wouldn’t you try to be an expert on it?”

“i don’t know…” she counters, tossing the food into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “i don’t know much about… alien viruses. or… storage pods.”

“interesting choices,” he hums out, watching her cheeks rotate a bit jealously. “it sounds like you’ve got your death all planned out.”

“just the first two things that popped into my head,” she says with a grating smirk. “the real irony would be if either of those things did actually contribute to it.”

“and if they didn't?”

he almost sounds a bit defensive.

she thinks for a bit longer. “then a rock would do the trick.” she nods. that seems like an ideal way to go.

“a rock? the worst a stone or pebble could do to you is bruise you.”

“or give you a concussion.”

he falters. “yes, there is that.”

“and i’m not talking small rocks. go big! boulders. things that could crush skeletons.”

“that’s obscene!” he cries in a notably louder voice, visibly cringing.

“okay, okay, i’ll admit that was… a bit much." she grimaces, reaching out and awkwardly patting his back in sympathy, before suddenly pulling him close so that she can whisper in his ear. "what about rocks that could eat you up for breakfast?”

his tense shoulders drop almost immediately, and he takes a step back. “now that just doesn't sound realistic,” he says with an raise of his brow. he looks as if he is about to add something but another person passing by - who jemma recognizes as triplett, the new student that fits in just perfectly with this crowd - steals the words right from his mouth. the boy watches him with a sad expression, as he stops at the buffet table and takes a paper plate from the stack, and shortly after begins to pile sugary delectables onto it.

“tree nuts specifically have it out for me, for me _personally_ ," he admits from out of nowhere. "they’re more like assassins than, like, possible dangers.”

“and you were just scolding me about man-eating rocks,” jemma mutters. “what did you ever do to tree nuts?”

"ate them, i guess,” he responds with a quiet laugh.

the music blaring in the background cuts off, and is soon replaced by a familiar voice that makes jemma turn away from the boy to search for the person it belongs to.

“it’s almost midnight!”

daisy, one of jemma's closest friends, stands precariously on the couch, bare feet constantly kneading into the padded yellow pillows as she tries to find her balance. she is the hostess of this party — the first new year’s eve party that jemma has ever been invited to.

 _“ten!”_ daisy yells.

 _“nine!”_ there are a few dozen people in the basement, and they chant along with her.

_“eight!”_

“i’m fitz,” the boy says, holding out his hand.

jemma reaches for his hand before realizing that probably isn't the best idea, considering he has just informed him about his allergy which he has specified numerous times he strongly dislikes, so at the last second, she goes to smooth down her black skirt, sacrificing a few greasy stains on it to brush all the pesto and traces of nuts off her palm. then would she shake it. “simmons.”

_“five!”_

“it’s a pleasure to meet you, simmons.”

_"four!"_

“and you as well, fitz. congratulations on evading the tree nuts for another year.”

_"three!"_

“they almost had me with that pesto dip.”

_"two!"_

“yeah,"

_"one!"_

“it was a close call.”


End file.
